


"You think you're so funny."

by captnalbatr0ss



Series: The Captain and his Quartermaster [2]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captnalbatr0ss/pseuds/captnalbatr0ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the boys play Twister.  |  Sentence prompt—  “I can’t keep fighting like this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You think you're so funny."

* * *

 

“Right hand, blue.”

“What?”

“That one—” Sam tipped his chin toward’s Rafe’s hand. “Blue. Look, it’s right there.”

“Look? Sam. I can’t fucking look.”

Sam grinned at Rafe. The smaller man was stretched awkwardly across the mat—if his legs gave out now, he’d be flat on his back. His hair fell into his eyes, he was frowning. Sam, who was diagonally arched over him, chuckled. He couldn’t help himself, left hand briefly leaving yellow to push Rafe’s hair back.

“Isn’t that cheating?” But Rafe was smirking. “You moved your hand.”

“No. Nope. I know your game.” Sam took advantage of his position, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Rafe’s chin. “Not gonna get outta this that easy. Besides, we have to move our hands to spin, anyways.”

“But you weren’t spinning. There was no spin. It’s still my turn.”

Sam shrugged as best he could with his arms where they were, one hand on the yellow dot by Rafe’s head, the other on red by Rafe’s chest. “Then get that right hand on blue, how ‘bout it?”

“Asshole.” Rafe quirked a brow. “Ok. Where?”

Sam directed his gaze to the nearest blue spot. “There.”

Rafe frowned, lifted himself up just enough, twisting his body to reach the blue circle. He teetered precariously for a moment before he found his balance. “Fuck. Okay. Your turn.”

“Left hand, green.”

Sam furrowed his brow. The only green circle he could reach was the one Rafe was poised so precariously above.

“Okay. Ah… Don’t move. I got this.” Sam’s tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.

Sam’s hand brushed Rafe’s side as he planted it firmly on the spot.

Rafe tensed.

“Sam. Seriously?”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows raised, his face the picture of innocence.

“You know what.” Rafe found Sam’s eyes from over his shoulder, scowling.

Sam struggled to keep a straight face, shifting his weight, deliberately brushing his arm against Rafe’s ribs again. Ever since he’d learned Rafe was ticklish, he took every opportunity to exploit that.

Rafe twitched, again. “You’re doing that on purpose.” 

“Nuh-uh. Honest. Just settling in.”

“Liar.”

“It’s your turn.”

Rafe huffed. “I can’t reach the spinner.”

Sam grinned. “I can spin for you.”

“Great.” Rafe lifted a brow, looking unamused.

Sam spun. He looked at the mat, looked at Rafe, looked at the spinner once more. Snorted.

“What?”

“Left foot, red.”

“Sam.”

“C’mon, that’s what it says!”

“Sam.”

“You callin’ me a liar?” Sam lifted a brow, left corner of his mouth twitching up, that half grin he couldn’t contain when he knew victory was imminent.

“Yes, Samuel, I think I did already call you that.”

Sam watched Rafe’s eyes scan the dots, frowning. 

Rafe never gave up easy. Not that they played Twister often, not that often… Except that they did. Sam coerced Rafe into playing it almost weekly.

And Rafe hated losing. And he hadn’t even wanted to play this dumb game in the first place.

“This is stupid.”

“Says the guy who’s about to lose.” Sam waggled his brows. “Just say it. You forfeit.”

“No, I— Just hold on a goddamn second. I’m thinking.”

“Well, by all means, Mr. Adler. Take your time. I’ll be here all day.” Sam shifted his weight again, grinning at the flash of irritation that crossed Rafe’s face.

Rafe practically growled at Sam. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jesus, Sam, you’re unbelievable.”

Sam lowered himself slightly, using his body to put just enough pressure on Rafe’s, just enough to really frustrate the smaller man.

“Really?”

Sam felt Rafe pushing back against him, stubborn as ever. Sam relaxed his arms slightly, forcing Rafe to bear his weight.

“Sam, _really_?” Rafe’s muscles tightened, flexed as he tried to hold Sam up, and himself as well in such an awkward angle. “You’re so fucking immature.”

“That hurts my feelings, babe.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Sam pouted dramatically, batting his eyes at Rafe.

“Stop it.”

Sam persisted, adding a quiver to his pout.

“Sam. No.”

“I can’t keep fighting like this.” Sam let out an exaggerated sigh. 

He let his body go limp, and Rafe let out a surprised grunt as they both toppled over. Rafe struggled underneath Sam, but the angle of his body made it difficult to push up, and the mat was slippery. He was pinned.

Sam grinned, opening one eye to look at Rafe. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“Ah, don’t be like that. You won, you should be happy.” Sam nudged Rafe teasingly, but made no effort to roll off of him.

“You think you’re so funny,” Rafe huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of his face.

“Mm. You think I’m funny, too.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

Sam adjusted his body on top of Rafe’s, lifting his hips to let Rafe straighten out.

That was a mistake.

He saw Rafe’s eyes flash, instantly full of mischief, and with a smirk Rafe pitched his body forward against Sam’s, throwing the older man off balance. Sam let out a yelp of surprise, suddenly finding Rafe on top of him, straddling his waist.

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest, looking very pleased with himself.

“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” Sam’s eyes narrowed, his smile widened. He reached for Rafe.

Rafe realized what was coming, but not fast enough.

“Wait! Sam,  _wait_ —”

Too late.

Sam’s hands were sliding under Rafe’s shirt, his fingers tickling mercilessly. 

And Rafe was laughing. A boisterous, loud, helpless sound that made Sam’s heart swell. It was Sam’s favorite sound, the one that gratified him the most. It was so rare, so pure, and Sam knew it was just for him—just for his ears.

Sam rolled them again, his entire focus on Rafe, on Rafe’s face. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners as they squeezed shut, the way his cheeks flushed with color, the way the years seemed to melt away from his features and he became that young man again, the one Sam had fallen for all those years ago.

Sam stilled his fingers when Rafe ran out of air, when his laughter was silent, when it made him fold up on himself, when tears formed in the corners of his eyes. 

Breathless.

Sam withdrew his hands, tugged Rafe’s shirt back down for him, framed Rafe’s face with his hands affectionately, smoothing his hair back. He pressed a lingering kiss to each of Rafe’s closed eyes, swallowing hard.

God, he was so in love.

The third kiss he pressed to Rafe’s forehead, and he held it there twice as long as he intended to.

When he pulled back, Rafe was smiling up at him.

And Rafe wasn’t the only one who was breathless.


End file.
